


Sweets Ordered by the Sour

by yawnnnn



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, Food, HAHA GAY, M/M, One Shot, Out of Character, Strangers to Lovers, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yawnnnn/pseuds/yawnnnn
Summary: When Roman, a barista, gets an order for a strawberry frap with extra whipped cream, he's got to wonder why it was ordered by the living embodiment of hot topic.When said customer also uses rainbow swirly straws, you can't blame him for beginning to question it even more.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Sleep | Remy Sanders, Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders
Comments: 10
Kudos: 70





	Sweets Ordered by the Sour

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings: Lots of food mention, swearing

“I’ll have a strawberry creme frap with extra whipped cream. Medium size and I don’t need a straw.” 

Well, that was the last thing he expected to come out of this customer’s mouth.

Roman stood behind the counter of the ‘Darling Cafe’, quirking an eyebrow at the person before him. Was he stuck back in his own delusions, or did the customer in front of him adorning heavy (heavily attractive, more like) eyeshadow just ask him for that? Not to mention the straw part. What was he going to do without a straw? He came to the eloquent conclusion that the emo must be ordering for someone else. Maybe a romantic partner? Perhaps a family member? A kid? His curiosity egging him on, he decided to be bold.

“Who you ordering for?” He leaned forward with his elbows on the countertop, causing the customer to take an awkward step back, putting his hands up. 

“Nunya.” He droned.

That wasn’t a very straightforward answer. He crossed his arms, wanting even more to find out now that the customer was playing hard to get. “And who might that be?” 

“Nunya business.”

Roman blinked.

The customer just chuckled, shuffling a few dollar bills onto the counter. “I can’t  _ believe  _ you actually fell for that. Call me over when you’re done, Mr. gullible.” He shifted away, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and sitting down at a booth far away from the window to check his phone. 

He couldn’t believe he actually fell for that.

Pressing a palm to his face, Roman overdramatically groaned into his hand, and started on his way to make the drink. He could’ve sworn Patton had used that joke on him once or twice before; Why had he been so distracted this time around? Maybe it’s because the guy was pretty.  _ Stupidly hot _ .  _ Illegally _ . 

Soon the smell of fresh strawberry was in the air, and with a little shake the drink was done. Upon realizing the customer hadn’t given him a name, Roman grabbed a marker and scribbled ‘Nunya’ on the cup, walking back to the front counter. “Hey emo!” the customer’s eyes seemed to flash up at the name, which made Roman snicker. He held the cup up in his hand, and the customer rolled his eyes and sauntered over to grab it. 

* * *

The next time he saw the customer was Friday, about the same time he’d come on Friday last week. He was cleaning up in the back, his coworker maining the cashier. Roman immediately recognized the face as it came through the door; an excited grin spread onto his own face as he walked up to the counter. He stumbled off to get his order, forgetting that his coworker had already beat him to the chase. 

“What can I get for ya hun?” Remy sounded, leaning on his hand and playing with his hair. The customer gave a skeptical look, but shrugged it off, eyeing Roman in the back, who quickly glanced away.

“Strawberry lemonade with a pink sugar cookie. No straw.” The customer said dryly, eyebags stretching under his face and looking deader than their most bitter black coffee. 

Remy snickered, pushing his aviators down the bridge of his nose. “Ooooo, didn’t expect that one, babes. You do you I guess.” He nodded over to Roman, who started preparing the drink. He sent a couple glances at the customer out of the corner of his eye, who, this time, had pulled out a laptop and started typing on it. Perhaps he would be staying here for a while, then. He added a bit too much strawberry flavoring to the drink while he was distracted, and jumped back upon the realization. 

Grabbing a marker and scribbling on ‘Tim Burton Protagonist’ to fit with the patchwork jacket the male adorned, Roman walked up to the counter and called out ‘emo’ again. 

The customer, recognizing his voice, put away his laptop in a hurry and stood up to fetch his drink, but not before Roman spotted a gay pride flag sticker on it. His eyes brightened up, and it gave his heart a flutter. The customer slid a few bucks on the counter to cover for the drink, and Roman had just begun sorting out the change before the customer pulled out a… swirly straw? It was colored like the drawing of a child, fully containing all the colors of the rainbow and upon further examination, was disposable.

The customer seemed to own a whole box of disposable rainbow swirly straws, and Roman was  _ convinced  _ that this could not get any weirder. 

* * *

“What’s with the crown, princey?” It was Friday again, the emo back to order what was likely an equally sweet drink to all the drinks before. Roman just smirked, readjusting it with as much pride he could muster while the customer just awkwardly stared, grimacing. 

“I just came back from rehearsal, and I just so happened to borrow it. You got a problem, emo? Is it too bright for your vampiric skin?” The customer rolled his eyes and sent him a disapproving look. 

“No, but your ego is too large for it to fit properly on your big head.” Roman gasped, offended, readjusting the crown again and turning his head away from the customer. He had to admit that was a good comeback, though. His cheeks flushed from the embarrassment. “I’ll take a strawberry shortcake with extra whipped cream, and a strawberry smoothie to go with it. No straw as usual.” 

He yelled the order to Remy, who nodded and got to work while humming some form of trashy pop songs as he flipped on the machines and grabbed a strawberry shortcake. “So, are you  _ really  _ drinking these yourself?” Roman started. “Not that it’s weird but… rainbow swirly straws and sickening sweets aren’t really your whole… deal.” 

Remy shoved the drink and cake on the counter, and the emo took them in his hand, sliding just the right amount of money over the counter this time. 

The customer smirked. “No shit, sherlock.” He leaned on the counter, and Roman shrunk back. “It’s for someone I meet every Friday. Figure it’s the least I can do.” He suddenly looked taken aback as if he wasn’t sure he should’ve opened up that way. Roman smiled.

“A villain with a heart of gold, I see.” 

“And in front of him a romantic with a heart of coal, indeed.” the customer rhymed, then set off out the door, a prominent slouch following him. Roman almost leaped onto the counter.

“Hey, did you just insult me with an eloquently put rhyme? Get back here, you fiend!” He shouted, but the customer just smirked and left. 

He was mildly infuriated, but this weekly customer was really cute. The back and forth would be entertaining, at the very least. And maybe with enough stupid nicknames, he might finally push the emo to give him his real name. He sighed, dreamily leaning onto his hand.

“God, Roman, you are  _ whipped _ , aren’t you.” Remy nudged his shoulder.

* * *

The customer came every week after that, ordering something fit for pure-hearted royalty straight out of fairytales. Roman fell more in love with their banter each and every time. He’d notice how careful the emo was with the drinks and food he ordered, how he would twirl the oddly shaped straw in his hand. How, even how tired or empty he looked, every time he entered the cafe, he’d have a soft smile, as if he was looking forward to the meeting that came afterwards.

And that was how Roman eventually came to the sad realization that the person he kept purchasing these drinks for must be the customer’s boyfriend. 

He sighed into his hands.  _ Back on my gay pining. _ The customer had ordered a mango smoothie today along with three birthday cake cookies. He seemed happier than usual, asking how Roman was doing and dropping the sarcastic attitude for a bit. Roman dropped his haughty one in return, and before long, they were chatting, mango smoothie and birthday cake cookies long forgotten. 

The customer pulled out his phone and then immediately stuffed it back into his pocket. “Shit, I gotta go. Gonna be late bye cuti-- princey!” He clamped his mouth shut, running out the door. Roman stood there, face tomato red, wondering what could’ve possessed Hot Topic here to call him cute. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. 

“Roman, babe!” Remy squealed. “Your shift is over, right? Be a doll and deliver some flowers for me?” And suddenly a bouquet was shoved into his hands, full of pastel flowers and the occasional daffodil that Remy had likely stuck in there himself. Roman tilted his head as he held on to the flowers, confused. 

He smiled deviously. “Pastels and bouquets? That’s a lot unlike you, Remy, who’re they for?” He twirled the bouquet in his hand, holding it up regally. 

Remy flicked him on the forehead, blowing his bangs out of his face. “My boyfriend, babes. I was gonna pay to have someone like, deliver it, but I don’t want them falling in love with how cute he is. You should be fine, though, you’re pining enough over our Marceline ordering for Bubblegum.” Remy gave a fist pump in the air, letting out an excited squeal. “Hot damn, I am  _ killing  _ it with these cartoon references! My babe is gonna be so proud of me!” 

Roman blushed, even though barely understanding the reference, he very well knew who Remy was referring to based on the look on his face behind those sunglasses. “So you’re telling me we haven’t been single caffeinated gays all this time? It was just me?”

“Please, babe, no matter how many guys I’ve hit on since I started here, I’m just too hot to be single.” Remy said smugly, and Roman sighed, grimacing. “Kidding, kidding. We started dating a month ago. Didn’t know I was hot enough to date an angel, though~ who knows if I even do really deserve him.” The usually sassy barista let a smile creep onto his face, lost in his thoughts. Roman felt happy for him. 

“Alright, playboy, I’ll deliver them.” He gave in, and Remy gave him a short hug before pulling away and walking back to the register with a jumpy skip in his step. 

“I’ll text you the directions, tell the receptionist you’re delivering to Dr. Emile Picani!”

* * *

“Hey there, kiddo! Didn’t expect to see you here! What’s with the flowers? Wait, this is a therapy office. Why are you here? Do you need therapy? That’s okay, I don’t judge! Do you want a hug? Can I give you a hug?” 

“Patton.” Suddenly the freckled boy snapped to attention. “I’m actually just here to deliver these for a friend.” He held up the flowers in his hand, and Patton laughed. “Thank you for your concern, however, and if you’re up for a hug right now I would happily accept it!” 

Patton leaped up from behind the reception desk, practically crawling over the counter to run into Roman’s arms. They stayed like that for a while, hugging, before Roman pulled away, noticing that the flowers had been tickling Patton’s neck and making him giggle. 

“I didn’t know you worked here, Patton.” He looked around, admiring the friendly atmosphere of the office, and the receptionist desk at which Patton had been sitting a minute ago. 

Glasses bounced on Patton’s cheek as he scratched his head. “I’m just the receptionist. It’s more of a part time job, but one of the therapists here is a good friend of mine, and, well-- my therapist. Don’t worry about me, though! Going to therapy doesn’t always mean I’m sad or troubled, it’s just nice to sit down and talk openly about things with someone who can give really good advice! He’s helped me out a lot, that Picani has.” Patton smiled, pushing his glasses up his nose. That was a relief, so Roman gave a smile in return. 

“I’m sure he has. Speaking of Picani, I’m here to deliver flowers for a Dr. Emile Picani? Can I see him right now or do I have to wait?” He asked.

“Actually, he’s on his break right now! He does have an appointment in around five minutes, though, so make it quick! It’s right down the hall, the door with a poster of a pineapple under the sea on it! Ya can’t miss it!”

“Thanks, Pat. We should meet up for lunch sometime!”

“Sounds like a plan! See ya later, alligator!” 

“In a while, crocodile!”

“Awwww, you know I love when you finish my puns!”

* * *

Roman knocked on the door, and when he got no answer, decided to gently open it. A soft tune of some song about ‘crystal gems’ was playing on the laptop, the person behind it typing while humming the song that was playing.

“Hello?” Roman said, clearing his throat. 

The doctor suddenly perked up, pausing the song on his laptop and ceasing his typing. “Oh, you must’ve come earl-- oh! Nevermind! Who might you be?” He gave a polite smile, and Roman pulled out the flowers from behind his back, causing the doctor to blink in surprise and his glasses to fall clumsily down his face. 

“Well, Mr. Picani, I’m here to deliver some flowers from one Remy Nidra.” At the mention of Remy’s name, the therapist sparked up in delight and leapt up from his desk to snatch the flowers up. Roman handed them over with a smile, and Emile squealed in delight, jumping up and down. 

“Eeeee! Well if that isn’t just-- well golly I’m just happier than-- than a Steven on a sugar rush of Cookie cats!” Although Roman had about zero clue what that analogy meant, the doctor continued jumping up and down, smelling the flowers and letting them mess up his hair. “Tell you what, I can make a flower crown out of some of these, can you do me a huge favor and deliver it back to him! I can even pay ya!” He pleaded with shimmering eyes. Remy may have been right when he called this guy an angel. 

Roman shook his head. “Remy’s a good friend of mine, I’d be happy to deliver it for free.” Emile smiled brightly and got to work on the flowers, weaving them together at a speed he didn’t even know was possible. 

“You know, I really don’t deserve him.” Emile rambled as he mixed pink flowers with yellow. “He’s such an ideal boyfriend.”

Remembering how Remy had said the same thing earlier, Roman smiled. “He said something like that earlier. You guys should get your act together and realize you deserve each other!” he grinned, and Emile grinned back. 

“I guess you’re right, huh?” Emile agreed as he finished up the flower crown, triumphantly holding it high in the air. “Heck yeah!” 

The door creaked open, and a scratchy voice sounded out. “Am I coming in at the wrong time?” 

“Oh, Virgil, sorry i completely forgot about our appointment! Come on in, you’re fine.” Emile motioned for ‘Virgil’ to enter the room. 

Roman flipped around all of a sudden. He recognized that voice, that hoodie, that heavily attractive eyeliner and not to mention the mango smoothie and birthday cake cookies. It was the customer! A smile spread across his face and he grabbed a rose from Emile’s bouquet. 

“Virgil, huh? That definitely wasn’t how I expected to find out your name. I imagined it more… dramatic.” Roman began, voice a little shaky and suddenly regretting every choice he had made up to this point. 

“R-Roman!? What are you doing here?” Virgil shot back, panic evident in his voice. 

“Delivering flowers for my fellow barista.” Roman squeezed the flower in his hand, sweat racing down his face as he decided to be bold. “Would you like one, my dark and stormy knight?” He stretched out his arm and offered a rose, which, to his surprise and delight, Virgil flushed a bright pink and snatched up with his hand, holding it close to cover his face. 

“Ohmygodthisisthecutebaristayouweretalkingabout!!!” Emile suddenly burst out, covering his face with his hands. Virgil hissed. Roman didn’t know that he could do that, but immediately found it adorable. “I’m so,  _ so _ sorry! I know our sessions are supposed to be confidential, but I couldn’t help it! I-- I’m sorry if I made things worse. I can ask Roman to step out for a moment if you need to calm down?” Emile continued, worry weaving in and out of his voice. 

“C-cute? Barista?” Roman blushed, as red as a fire engine. They were both brighter colors than the flowers, now, and a smile grew on Emile’s face in the background. “That’s I-- I um…”

Virgil took a deep breath. “...’s okay, Emile. Was gonna find out anyway…” He mumbled, returning to the embarrassed silence. 

Roman took a deep breath in return. “Well, that’s a relief, because I happened to be talking about a cute customer a lot more than usual as of recently.” 

“I’m sorry this all happened really suddenly and my mind is a jumbled mess-- you are talking about me, right!?” Virgil worriedly asked, and Roman laughed, placing a hand on the emo’s shoulder.

“Of course I am. Who else would it be?” 

The therapist spoke up from behind them. “I’m resisting the urge to inappropriately squeal and become a fanatic over a couple I know almost nothing about-- but I can step out for a moment so you two can sort things out on your own?” Emile laughed. 

Virgil and him nodded enthusiastically. 

Virgil cleared his throat. “Um, before you go, I brought you mango smoothie and birthday cake cookies today.” He handed over the container and drink that Roman remembered preparing just before his shift had ended. His eyes widened in realization.

“Aw, thanks, Virgil, but you don’t have to keep bringing me these sweets~” Emile took them with gratitude, eyes playful like a child as he poked the swirly straw. “I mean, you already pay for these sessions, and now that you don’t need an excuse to talk to Mr. ‘cute barista’ every Friday, I don’t expect you to keep doing these nice things for me.” He suddenly seized up at the guilty look in Virgil’s eye. “Thank you, though! These drinks and cookies fuel me and Patton with so much serotonin.” 

Roman smiled wide and caught Virgil’s eye. “So that’s who you’ve been ordering for all this time!”

* * *

“Oh my  _ god,  _ he made me a flower crown out of it!? He’s a fucking  _ angel,  _ Roman. An  _ angel _ . Tell me, babes, would it be too classless to use the ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven’ line on him because god the temptation is like so hard to ignore.” Remy buried his blushed face into his hands as Roman set the flower crown atop Remy’s head. 

“He made a matching one for himself so that you two can wear them together. And, believe it or not, he got me a boyfriend, too.” Roman laughed.

Remy pushed down his sunglasses. “He  _ what? _ ” 

Roman laughed. “Apparently  _ the  _ customer-- yes  **_the_ ** customer-- is one of his patients. He was ordering for Emile this whole time and I think I handled the whole thing rather elegantly.” He made a short bow. “I mean, we  _ are  _ dating now.”

Remy raised an eyebrow. “So what you’re trying to say, hun, is that you gay panicked and by some shitty mix of events you ended up dating?”

“Basically. Oh-- there comes my date. Be sure and go match flower crowns at some gay picnic in a dandelion field with your boyfriend today! Wouldn’t want his efforts to go to waste!” Roman yelled as he slung his rehearsal bag over his shoulder and headed out of the cafe. 

“Oddly specific but sounds like a delightful fucking fever dream, see ya babes!”

* * *

Roman exited the cafe, satisfied and highly content. He had a dumb grin spread across his face as Virgil walked up to meet him, and they started off. Hell if they knew where they were going, but the very concept of spending time with the emo outside the cafe or a therapist’s office was exhilarating. 

“Hey there, princey.” Virgil smiled. Roman seemed to reach out for his hand to see if the other would accept, and was overjoyed when the hand clasped around his. 

“So, where would you like to go, Virgil?” 

“No nickname? Just Virgil?”

“Well, Virgil, I just learned your name, I would like to  _ at least  _ put it to use once or twice, Virgil.”

“Well now you’re just overusing it,  _ Roman _ .”

“Shut up and let’s go,  _ Virgil _ .”

“Whatever you say,  _ Roman _ .” 

“You’re not going to win this battle,  _ Virgil. _ ”

“Oh,  _ Roman _ , I have one hell of a competitive streak.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
